


for a beautiful boy

by acastle



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, M/M, Mentions of double penetration, Rough Sex, Sugar Daddy Minseok, much softer than the tags imply I'm afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: “I’m coming to pick you up,” Minseok says after a minute, voice calm, too calm. “Is that alright with you, baby boy?”“I. Um, okay,” he says, blinking, a little confused.“Don’t change,” he tells him, “keep that sweater on.”(Jongin's clothes are ruined, but it's not all that bad. Minseok seems to like them cropped short, anyway.)





	for a beautiful boy

**Author's Note:**

> "daddy" is said a few times.
> 
> don't send to anyone mentioned.

Jongin was very sure that this sweater had a bottom half when he’d he’d first gotten it. Now, as he holds it up and looks at it, it’s at least several inches shorter, the edge sheared off and unclean, yarns fraying and he’s more than a little livid.

“Hun!” he yells out, hoping it’s heard outside his room, but he doesn’t care if it does or not, really. “Hunnie!”

“I’m asleep!” he shouts back, heard through the thin wall between their rooms, and Jongin walks out, opens the door, and glares at where his roommate is curled up around his English tutor Junmyeon, who Sehun has previously sworn to not have been hooking up with, but Jongin is sure they’re both naked under the sheets, both panting and a just-fucked-glow shining on their skin.

“What did you do to my sweater?” he says, holding up the garment in question, and Sehun stares at it, then at him.

“What about it?” he asks. Jongin glares at him, hard. 

“What happened to the rest of it?” he says, holding it out so the cut off edge is seen properly. Junmyeon makes a small pained noise when he sees the damage. 

“Isn’t it already like that originally?” Sehun says, raising an eyebrow, as if he’s too good to deal with the question of the whereabouts of the missing inches of Jongin’s sweater. 

“Sehun, that’s Gucci,” Junmyeon chides him gently.

Sehun looks at Jongin, his gaze curious and questioning and maybe a little accusatory. “Where did  _ you _ get the money to buy a Gucci sweater? You can barely scrape enough to pay your half of the rent.”

“Does it matter where I got it?” he replies, feeling his face heat up a little, but hoping it doesn’t show on his complexion. “If you know what happened to it, you need to tell me.”

Sehun stares at him, silent, but Junmyeon prods him quietly, gently, and eventually, he sighs, saying, “Baekhyun, the other day. May have tried it on. But it got caught on his belt hook and it unraveled.”

“The entire bottom half?” he asks. Sehun, at the very least, looks embarrassed. 

“We may have tried to fix it,” he says. “Thought we could even it out, but each time we tried, it never came out straight, so we kept cutting off more and more until. Well. Until that.”

“You should have told me,” Jongin says. “Is this why Baekhyun ran away from me when I tried to give him his notes back the other day?”

“He is really,  _ really,  _ sorry, Nini,” he says, and Jongin knows, because Baekhyun wouldn’t do something like this on purpose ever, but he’s still sad, because he hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet, and he had been immensely excited to try it on since he’d gotten it. 

“I know. But Baekhyun’s still banned from my room until further notice,” he says, pouting, leaving them to go back to his room, locking himself in. 

He sighs, staring at his now ruined sweater, feeling overall quite horrible. And just as he laments over the loss, his phone starts ringing, and he looks at the caller ID with a little apprehension, nervousness. 

He answers anyway, after a few rings and a few moments considering what he should say. “Hi, Minnie.”

_ “Hello, baby boy,”  _ Minseok replies, his voice silky and low, wonderful.  _ “I’m just about to get off work. How are you?” _

“I’m, I’m okay,” he says, tries not to stutter so much. His stomach does the cliche flip over, little butterflies, just like every other time Minseok so much as breathes in his direction. It’s not an ideal situation, being so deep in his emotions when it comes to someone who is basically paying him for sex and company. He feels like it can’t be helped, when Minseok spoils him endlessly and kisses him the way he does, holds him close when they’re together, and looks at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “I’m at home. Last rehearsals went well.”

_ “Hmm, that’s good. Get a lot of rest,”  _ he says, and his voice is soft, and Jongin feels his heart clench a little.  _ “Are you ready for tomorrow?” _

“I, I’m not sure,” he says, and he looks at his sweater. Swallows, and starts slowly, “Minnie. Do you, um. Do you remember the sweater you gave me?”

_ “Which one, Jongin? I’ve lost count of the number of clothes I’ve given you,”  _ he says, and Jongin gulps again. 

“The one last week, the Gucci?”

_ “Oh, yes. From the latest season,”  _ he says, and it makes Jongin feel a little worse.  _ “Do you like it? I’ll buy you the other colors, if you do.” _

“No, Minseok, that’s. That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he says, and really, more than three-quarters of his wardrobe had come from Minseok. He’s spoiled him too much. “It’s. You remember my friend, Baekhyun?”

_ “The loud piano major you told me about?”  _ he says,  _ “hmm, what about him?” _

“He, he tried it on, the sweater,” he says, and he steels himself. “And. He ruined it.”

_ “Ruined it how?”  _ Minseok asks him gently.  _ “It’s alright, Nini. I’m not mad. It’s not your fault.” _

“I know. I just, I feel bad, because you gave it to me,” he says, frowning to himself. “He cut off a lot of the bottom. It’s ruined.”

_ “How short is it now?”  _ he asks.  _ “It might still be wearable. The grunge look is quite popular. I’m sure you would wear it well, you look good in anything.” _

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried it on,” he says, but he’s already stripping off his shirt, and slipping the sweater over his body. It’s shorter than he had feared, the frayed edge of the bottom tickling the skin above his belly button, his stomach exposed and he breathes deeply, wanting to cry a little. 

_ “Nini, baby. I’m sure it’s okay,”  _ Minseok says soothingly when the pause goes on for too long, but Jongin can’t stop pouting to himself, touching his skin where the sweater doesn’t cover. 

“It’s not,” he says, trying to keep the whining to a minimum, but it had been such a  _ pretty  _ sweater, and he knows that while it didn’t even put a hint of a dent in Minseok’s wallet to buy it for him, he must have taken the time to pick out what he knows Jongin will like. “I can’t wear it. It’s too short.”

_ “Take a picture, darling,”  _ Minseok is telling him,  _ “let me see. I’m sure it’s not too bad.” _

Jongin doubts it, but he sighs, saying, “Okay.” And he does as he’s told, shuffling over to his mirror and taking a few pictures of himself in the reflection, feeling highly ridiculous in the cropped sweater, the sliver of skin showing making him feel more naked than he should. 

He sends the pictures with a little hesitation, feeling even a little more ridiculous because he’s sent Minseok several pictures of himself not wearing anything at all, many where he’s touching himself in less than safe for work ways. He sends them eventually, mostly a slip of his fingers, and when he comes back to the line, it’s quiet for several moments. Long enough that he worries, that Minseok might just be a little more upset than he lets on. 

“Minseok?” he tries, feeling his palm and fingers get a little sticky with nervousness around his phone. “Is. Is everything okay?”

_ “I’m coming to pick you up,”  _ Minseok says after a minute, voice calm, too calm.  _ “Is that alright with you, baby boy?” _

“I. Um, okay,” he says, blinking, a little confused. 

_ “Don’t change,”  _ he tells him,  _ “keep that sweater on.” _

Minseok hangs up before Jongin can ask him why, and he doesn’t quite know what to feel. He can’t tell if he’s mad, or anything, and it’s something of a small frustration that he can never quite distinguish what Minseok is thinking when he’s completely the opposite, everything always showing on his face. He’s unable to hide his emotions, mask his face into something less obvious, but he doesn’t linger on it. 

He puts on his coat on top of the shortened sweater and his jeans, leaving the apartment without a pause, not wanting Sehun to catch him leaving, waits down by the entrance of the building in the cold, as he does usually when Minseok comes to pick him up to go to his place. 

Tonight. He can’t place it, can’t tell why, but. It feels different. There’s something different. 

It doesn’t take very long for Minseok’s car to come up the street, its sleek black sheen too rich and expensive for the block, and he steps down as Minseok’s driver comes round to open the door to the back for him.

“Hi, Siwon,” he greets quietly. 

“Good evening, Jongin,” he says, polite as he always is, and Jongin has a hard time looking him in the eyes, ever since Minseok had once splayed him flat in the backseat and ate him out and made him cry with how turned on he had been, while on their way back to Jongin’s place after a small private event Minseok had brought him along for. 

Jongin knows that it’s probably never been something Siwon was never aware of, of his and Minseok’s arrangement and understanding, and he’d kindly and wordlessly brought up the divider right at the moment Minseok had pulled him in and kissed him that night. It’s still embarrassing, however, that he’d heard him sob about needing to come and wanting Minseok’s cock inside him while Minseok had licked into his ass.

He brightens the moment he sees Minseok in the backseat, waiting for him, mouth set in a soft smile, and he crawls right on top of him, uncaring suddenly of who might see. Minseok brings up his arms around him, fully embracing him, and it only dawns upon Jongin now how  _ tired  _ he really was, practicing and rehearsing and stress lining his muscles. But with something so simple as Minseok pulling his face down, eyes gentle and heated as he takes him in, and his lips on his, soft as they move and licking into his mouth carefully, he feels  _ so  _ taken care of. 

He hardly even notices that they’re back on the road, thankfully no traffic on their way to Minseok’s mansion of an apartment, and Minseok pulls back, hands palming his ass soothingly as he looks at him, and there it is, the light that’s too bright and making Jongin feel greater than he really is.

“Hello, baby,” he says, voice like silk and gentle, and Jongin can’t help but tuck his face into his neck, curling around him, stealing warmth and proximity. “You look beautiful.”

“I’m not,” his voice is muffled, and Minseok always says this, always calls him beautiful. It never sinks in, that he thinks that of him, that he even  _ thinks of him _ in the first place. As he always does when Jongin refuses the little compliment, Minseok tsks, kissing the nearest bit of skin he can reach. Tonight, it’s Jongin’s jaw, lips achingly soft on his skin, the slightest bit wet from their kissing barely moments before.

“Why do you never believe me,” Minseok says, eyes so sharply beautiful, and Jongin is so deeply in love with him. “You’re always beautiful. Ah, in this sweater. With this,” he says, voice a little lower as he speaks right in his ear, fingers trailing just beneath the sheared off edge of the sweater, Jongin’s skin erupting in goosebumps as Minseok touches him gently, then gripping his waist tight, protectively. “Oh. You’ve no idea what you do to me, baby boy.”

He can say the same of him, wants to say more, but he’s not very good with words. Never really was, so he holds on to him, kisses him again. 

Minseok takes his time, kissing him, lips touching his own plush ones quietly, licking gently and Jongin hums and whimpers along, opening his mouth obediently for him and letting him in. 

“Your friend did me a real favor, ruining this,” Minseok says quietly eventually, his eyes dark with want but still soft, and he touches Jongin’s stomach, waist, the skin exposed, and Jongin feels it, the heat and desire and everything that's brewing between them. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I feel stupid,” he says honestly, trying to pull down his top, but Minseok kisses his cheek, wordlessly caressing his skin, murmuring the softest,  _ “Don’t, baby.” _

“You’re not stupid. Never are,” Minseok says, tells him, firm but voice still soft, and it’s because he’s like this, always so tender and affectionate and so full of warmth that Jongin cannot, truly  _ cannot  _ help but feel his chest go tight, his heart ache with so much want. “Never call yourself that. You’re beautiful.”

“Stop, please. It’s too much,” he says, shy, hiding still, and Minseok laughs quietly, kissing him again. 

“Never. I’ll always call you beautiful,” he says like he means it, and Jongin knows he shouldn’t so easily believe, because their arrangement isn’t really one for emotional attachment, but it doesn’t stop from the warmth filling him up and making him feel a little more whole.

“Why’d you make me wear this?” he asks instead of trying to deal with his emotions properly, and Minseok gives him a small smile.

“Because you look good, wearing it,” he says honestly. “And I want to worship you a little, the way you deserve.”

“What, what do you mean by that?” he asks, and Minseok smiles still, just a little more mysteriously.

He can’t prod more, because the car door is opened, and Minseok pats his bottom to get him to move, nonchalant as he stands and gets out, “Thank you, Siwon. Get home safely, tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, bowing, stepping back as Minseok holds out his hand for Jongin to take, kissing him easily when he gets out of the car. 

Jongin feels his cheeks heat with Minseok’s blatant display of affection, and the shortness of his sweater makes the wind that bit much more unbearable, and he feels particularly vulnerable. He wraps his arms around himself, covering what he can, and Minseok links their fingers as they walk through the entrance of the apartment complex, glass and steel and like money rolled off of the very walls with how obviously exclusive it was. 

Jongin still feels like a complete outsider as he enters, even with the many times he had been here, but it’s different when he’s in Minseok’s apartment. Minseok holds him close, keeps them moving to the elevators, and then it’s just them, quiet and comfortable as they go up to his floor.

The first time he had stepped out to Minseok’s apartment, which really was the entirety of the 23rd floor, with floor to ceiling windows and priceless art hanging on the walls behind the couches and state of the art kitchen and the jacuzzi in the en suite bathroom with the best view of the city, he had almost walked right back out, feeling completely out of place and not believing that someone as rich and obviously influential as Minseok would ever be interested in a broke dance major who survives on fried chicken and ramen noodles.

Minseok had pulled him back in that night, held his hand with the most respect Jongin had ever received from anyone he’d ever met to calm him down, patient and waited and didn’t pressure him. 

It had been a little surprising, to be treated so kindly, because Jongin had thought he had known what he was getting into. He was being paid to sleep with this man, and he’d been a little scared, apprehensive of everything, more than he had expected, but Minseok had made it clear that moving forward was his choice, so gentle and patient and he had the kindest eyes. 

It had been enough for Jongin to give him a shaky  _ “Okay,”  _ and with that little bit of trust, Minseok had taken care of him, kissed every part of his body and took his time to prep him, calm him, and fucked him right on the rug worth thousands in the living room, making Jongin moan and open up around him and make his own little indelible mark in the room, the walls becoming familiar with his voice and how Minseok had made him feel so good. 

Now, the place is something of a little home, a safe space in which Jongin can be a little more himself, melt into his emotions and give Minseok everything he wants to give him. Recently, he’s come to fear that he’s given too much, and even scarier, how he wants to give him  _ more.  _ Give him everything, hoping he’ll take him and Minseok will let him have him, but it’s not something he can ask. 

“Baby boy, come here,” Minseok says as he sets himself down on the couch after they deposit their coats in the kitchen, and Jongin follows him, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap, fitting himself into Minseok’s crevices easily, comfortingly.

“Is this where the ‘worshipping’ comes in?” he asks shyly, and Minseok kisses his cheek, lips on his skin for so long Jongin thinks he’s trying to leave a mark on his face. He finds that he doesn’t mind so much, if it does. 

“Hmm, yes,” Minseok says against his cheek, moving slightly so that he’s kissing his jaw, then his mouth, the briefest of pecks. “Is that alright with you, Jongin?”

Jongin nods, shivering slightly, clinging on to him and waiting, anticipating. He’s tired, his body aching a little from all the practicing he’d been doing, but the thought of Minseok touching and him and filling him up with his cock is always enticing, and his own stirs with interest with the thought.

Minseok touches him, fingertips skimming the skin exposed by the cropped sweater, lips moving to everywhere on his face, his jaw, his throat. Slowly, Minseok guides him to lay back on the cushions, settling on top of him and slotting their bodies together, and he keeps kissing him, licking into his mouth and tasting him. Jongin licks back, trying to chase the subtle sweetness of his mouth, which had disarmed him the first time they’d done it, that someone as fierce-looking and powerful as Minseok could taste so gentle and addicting. He finds he can’t get enough of him, now, and he sighs, breathing heavily as Minseok kisses down his body, lips trailing and the saliva cooling on his skin in the cool air of the apartment. 

Minseok lifts the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach even more, and brings his head down to kiss over his belly button, and Jongin gasps when he licks in slightly, and he moans, a little embarrassed for liking it. Minseok doesn’t show any signs of judging him, though, and he just licks again, kissing around the area more and more. He trails his tongue down the lines of his abs, tracing muscles and his lips are achingly soft on his skin, his hands just so.

Jongin hums, arching a little to lean more into Minseok’s touch, his hand and tongue hot on his body, and just this, just Minseok putting his hands and mouth on him are more than enough to get him heated, belly warm blood singing with the thought of him being so close. He stiffens in his pants just so when Minseok sucks marks on his stomach, nipping lightly and nails biting gently into his muscles as he flattens his tongue and runs it across his skin, over his belly button, and he  _ knows  _ what he’s doing. Getting him hot, worshipping him and teasing him just so, and it’s gentle but full of heat, every touch deliberate, and Jongin is getting hard, wanting him nearer and closer and he wants to come, wants Minseok inside him, wants him in his ass, in his heart, in his soul. 

And all of it’s good, always is, and Jongin melts easily into his every touch, waiting for more, but. It doesn’t come, Minseok seemingly content with keeping things strictly above the belt, worshipping his stomach like he’d said, and it’s not to say that Jongin isn’t. He likes the way he’s being kissed, touched, and Minseok is never not generous with the way he treats him. But, he hadn’t been expecting it to be like this, tonight.

“M-Minseok,” he tries, trembling a little as teeth bite gently into his hip, then soothed over with tongue.

“Yes, darling?” Minseok says, unaffected, kissing the spot above his belly button one more time before he looks back up at him. Jongin tingles, from the kissing and affection and the sweet term of endearment, more than he deserves. “What is it?”

“Is, is this what you meant by ‘worshipping’? Just this?” he asks, and Minseok tilts his head slightly at him, amused and patient.

“Were you expecting more?” he asks him, and Jongin blushes, but Minseok leans back up, hovering over him properly and brushing his hair back tenderly, and he’s immediately comforted, still a little embarrassed, but a warmth overpowering the feeling. 

“I, I just thought,” he tries to word it properly, and Minseok waits, but he can’t complete the thought as well as he wants. He looks down instead, pouting, and Minseok understands. “I want to,” he says, touching the front of Minseok’s pants, bolder than he feels. When Minseok eyes flutter closed, soft moan leaving his lips, it makes him too accomplished.

“I want it, too. Oh, you have  _ no idea,  _ what you’re doing to me, looking like this. Being who you are,” he says, and when he opens his eyes again, his eyes are dark, full of want. “But. Your recital. It will be hard on your body, to dance after sex.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, whining a little, hiding his nonchalance poorly, and Minseok chuckles, kissing him, but not much else. “Minnie, Minseok, please.”

“I’m afraid it’s a no, Nini,” he says, at least looking a little put out by it. “The last time, you were limping-”

“That’s because we used the toy, too,” he says, remembering that night with heated shivers, remembering how full he had been, with Minseok’s cock and a modest sized vibrator in his ass, together, how he had sobbed with how good he had felt. “It will be okay, I’ll be okay. Please, Minnie-”

“I don’t want you to strain yourself, Jongin,” he says, voice still gentle but the words are firm. “This is important, it’s your final requirement for graduating, isn’t it? I don’t want to risk it.”

_ ‘It’s not like you’ll even be going,’  _ he thinks but doesn’t say, because Minseok isn’t obliged to go. He doesn’t have any reason to, because what they are should be strictly casual, and it’s not like Jongin is a very big part of his life anyway, just someone he fucks from time to time and spoils with nice things. It’s not his fault Jongin went ahead and fell for him even though he shouldn’t have. He doesn’t say it, because he’ll look even more like a whiny kid, their differences made all that much more glaringly apparent. 

Minseok is a crazy successful art curator who designs on the side in his thirties, who has his shit figured out. Jongin is different from him in many ways, the most of it being that he has no idea what he wants to do in the future. Of the thing he’s surest, it’s that Minseok makes him the happiest, and that he’s very much in love with him, his heart always so warm and full of brightness when he’s with him. It’s a little cruel, that the thing he’s more sure of than anything, is something he can’t ever really admit. 

So instead, he says, “I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Please.”

“I don’t know, Jongin,” he says, and Minseok always takes care of him well, and most of the time, Jongin is very grateful for his consideration.

Right now, he’s frustrated, and he admits as much. “You shouldn’t have started kissing my tummy then. You  _ know  _ that your mouth anywhere on me would get me going,” he says, maybe a little petulantly.

Minseok indulges him, though, because when does he not, and he kisses him resolutely, sweetly but still like silk, lips soft on his. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m not fragile,” he says, trying not to pout, but Minseok kisses his frown all the same, and he’s full up on kisses, and he wants more, a lot more. “Not a baby.”

_ “My  _ baby, though,” Minseok corrects him, and Jongin shouldn’t read too much into it, knows he’s just saying it, but he feels himself flush anyway, and he fights not to be too pleased. “I’m sorry for starting it, then. I’ll help you forget about it.”

“I doubt  _ you  _ could make me any less horny,” he says, and Minseok smiles a little ruefully. 

“Oh, Nini. Don’t be a brat,” Minseok says gently, laughing softly at him, kissing him again. Kisses, so many of them, and Jongin feels his chest just get tighter and tighter, like his heart just keeps getting more full. 

Minseok kisses him for a long while, just moving his lips against his and it’s not like Jongin will just suddenly forget the heat swirling in his belly or the stiffness in his pants, but Minseok kisses so  _ well  _ and knows how to get him melting into him.

It’s not very long before he’s moving back down, trailing his lips along the way, and then there are more kisses being pressed on his stomach, his sweater lifted up slightly and Minseok nosing along the muscles he’s worked hard to develop.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmurs, praise effusive, and Jongin can never get used to it, how he says things so easily to make him feel like this. 

Minseok peppers his belly with kisses, and Jongin moan-huffs, slightly frustrated but still leaning into Minseok’s touch regardless, liking everything being given to him. He sighs, then yelps when Minseok blows a raspberry playfully into his belly button, and he doesn’t want to, but he laughs, trying to wriggle away from Minseok’s mouth as he tries to blow more. 

“M-Minnie, don’t,” he tries, refraining from kicking when Minseok starts tickling him, fingers dancing across his stomach, and Minseok laughs, digging in a little more.

“‘Not a baby,’ hmm,” he teases, tickling him more, nipping at his skin, “Sure. My baby.”

“Stop,” he whines, laughing more, and Minseok  _ chuckles  _ at him, the dick he is, just going back to torture him a little more with raspberries and tickles, and Jongin hates him a little right now. 

He huffs, and he somehow pulls himself up, pushes Minseok to sit up on the couch and he climbs onto his lap, sitting on top of him, looking down at him with a glint in his eyes.

Minseok raises an eyebrow, still looking amused, but Jongin breathes deeply, holding Minseok’s face in his hands and leans down to kiss him with intent.

Jongin licks into his mouth, shoving his tongue deep into his mouth, and Minseok hums, finally relenting a little and letting him take what he wants, leaning back and bringing his hands to grip his waist, pulling him in even closer.

“Nini, baby,” Minseok murmurs against his lips, humming as Jongin licks down his throat, touching him, getting his hands everywhere he can. “We can’t.”

“We  _ can,”  _ he says, tilting Minseok’s head up and looking straight into his eyes. His lips are a little sore from all the kissing they’ve been doing, and Minseok looks like he isn’t faring much better, his own mouth looking slightly swollen.“ “I swear we can, I can take it. I want you, please.”

Minseok stares at him, his eyes going darker, and Jongin can’t wait. Kisses him again, arches into him, and he starts rolling his hips down, a continuous motion, grinding his ass down on to Minseok’s crotch.

Minseok groans, hands moving down to Jongin’s ass, and he helps him along, and it’s not long before Jongin can feel a stiffness he’s happily familiar with against his bottom as they roll together.

“You’re being crafty. Dirty, tempting me this way,” Minseok says, taking Jongin’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucking. 

“You started it,” he retorts, maybe a little immaturely, and he rolls his body down a little harder, making Minseok groan. “Fuck me.”

“Hmm, I’ll consider it,” Minseok says, being an ass, and Jongin huffs again, kissing him harder, trying to tempt him harder. 

He grinds down harder, licking across his lips, and he reaches down, unbuttoning Minseok’s shirt and shrugging it off of him, gliding his hands down his chest, defined and warm under his hands. 

He goes to remove the sweater, but Minseok catches his fingers, pulling his hands down and giving him a steaming, gentle look. “No. Keep it on.”

“So does this mean you’ll fuck me?” he asks, and Minseok just  _ smirks,  _ and kisses him, deepening it almost immediately. 

It gets more heated between them, hotter and hotter, and Jongin reaches down, getting Minseok’s pants open and reaching down beneath the layers to touch his cock, circling his fingers around his length and gripping him. Minseok moans against his lips, and Jongin’s chest goes so light, his own cock going harder, and he wants him anywhere he’ll let him have it. 

When Minseok goes to unbutton his pants, he sighs in relief, barely keeping himself from muttering out a  _ ‘Finally.’  _ Minseok sees it on his face though, and he smirks, much too smugly, and he brings Jongin around, making him yelp as he’s manhandled to his hands and knees on the couch, gentle hands guiding his own to grip at the armrest at the end.

“Stay still, baby,” Minseok murmurs into his ear, before he moves back down, hooking his fingers into his waistband and pulling his pants and underwear down. 

Jongin shivers, fingers curling tight around the couch as Minseok strips him completely of his bottoms, and he’s not prepared for Minseok’s mouth on his ass, placing a soft kiss right over where he wants him most. 

“Oh,  _ oh god,  _ Minseok,” he breathes, whines, pushing back against his lips. “That’s not,  _ oh,  _ that’s not fair.”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” he says conversationally, licking around his hole, and Jongin gasps, when Minseok kisses his rim, dipping his tongue in slightly inside him. 

“You’re, you’re teasing me,” he grunts, unable to keep still as Minseok bites his bum and pushing his tongue slowly inside his ass. “You’re being mean.”

“No, I’m not,” he says calmly, and Jongin moans louder, feeling his hole flutter around Minseok’s tongue as he fucks him with it. “If we’re going to do this, we need to go carefully. I don’t want you hurt before such an important performance.”

“Then go carefully  _ faster,”  _ Jongin bites out, and Minseok tuts gently, kissing his ass one more time, before reaching over somewhere. Jongin hears a click, and a few moments later, he almost shudders in relief when a slicked up finger circles his hole, and he moves back, trying to get him to push it in. 

“Please be patient, baby. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Minseok calms him, kissing the rim of his ear, but he gives in a little, pushing his finger in more, slowly, until he’s knuckles deep, and Jongin sighs, not quite sated, but feeling a little more satisfaction. 

“Oh,  _ oh  _ Minnie,” he breathes hard, arching his back and dropping his head and whining louder when Minseok starts rimming him again, tongue pushing in alongside his finger. 

“Feeling a little better, baby boy?” Minseok asks him just as he pushes another finger into him, making Jongin moan louder in reply. “Hmm, use your words, Jongin.”

“Good.  _ Better.  _ Please do  _ more,”  _ he says, begs, and Minseok listens well. He fucks him with his tongue and fingers, getting him open and wet and ready for him. Jongin feels his heat go so tight, his cock hard and needing to be filled, needing only Minseok, wanting him too much than he feels should be allowed. 

Minseok touches him so well, knowing exactly how he wants to be touched, giving it to him finally. Fucks him with three fingers and his tongue, and Jongin breathes hard, gasping and sighing and moaning and feeling everything, trying not to get overwhelmed. Goosebumps erupt everywhere on his flesh, and he curls his fingers into the too-long sleeves of the sweater, the garment doing little to make him feel anymore covered, but Minseok is more than enough to keep him warm, keep his blood rolling and get him hot. 

“Oh, oh,  _ fuck, oh please,”  _ he moans when Minseok curls his tongue in deeper inside his ass, licking around, and he loves being eaten out, truly. Loves having his tongue in his ass and his hole explored and loves the wet sensation that comes with it, but right now, he wants more. “Minnie. Minnie Minnie  _ Minnie-“ _

“Okay, baby boy,” Minseok says, voice gruff, and he’s leaning up. A pause, a tear of a foil packet, and then. The head of his perfect length, tracing his hole, and Jongin shakes with it, his balls heavy and wanting and full already. 

Minseok pushes his cock in, slow, so slow, inside his body, until all of him is sheathed in Jongin’s ass, and Jongin tries to be patient, he truly does. Tries to wait and let himself adjust around Minseok’s cock even though his body has taken him so many times it hardly takes a thought before he’s ready for  _ more,  _ but when Minseok pulls out, just as slow, the next thrust in is agonizing, snail paced and Jongin needs more. 

“Please fuck me, Minnie,” he says, begs. “Please, I need you.  _ Fuck.” _

“You’re being impatient, baby.”

“Yes, because you won’t give me  _ anything,”  _ he says, and it’s whiny and petulant and he’s about to cry because he needs more than he’s getting. “Minnie, Minnie.  _ Daddy,  _ please,  _ please-” _

“Oh, baby, Nini,” he murmurs, and Jongin hears it, the heat dripping from his voice. “Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

He pulls out, only to  _ slam  _ back in, knocking the breath out of Jongin, and Jongin moans, high and loud as he drops his head to his chest, pushing his ass out and taking it all in, thankful, relieved.

“You feel so good, squeezing around me, Nini,” Minseok says, right against his ear, hands on his body so hot as he grinds into him. “Such a tight ass, so perfect-”

“Yes, for you,  _ for you,”  _ he breathes, squeezing uselessly at the armrest as Minseok pounds into him, cock ramming into his ass and filling him up, their skin slapping together loudly, echoing in the emptiness of Minseok’s too-fancy penthouse apartment. Minseok holds his hips, pulling his ass up and out for him to thrust into, and Jongin whines, trying to keep himself up but the sensation of being fucked so thoroughly is making it difficult to do so.

“Made to take me,” Minseok says, sounding so sure of it, and it makes Jongin melt, and he agrees, moaning his affirmation. “Made for my cock. My lovely, perfect boy.”

“Harder. Fuck me harder, please,” he begs, using his prettiest voice, raising his ass higher for Minseok to fuck into, and Minseok leans down, bites into his shoulder briefly with a soft growl, and he  _ fucks  _ him, driving into him with a hammering pace, strong and unfaltering. Jongin wants to sob with the perfection. 

Minseok fucks him into the cushions, jostling his body up, and Jongin can barely keep himself in place from the force of it all, keep himself from being slammed against the armrest, and it’s exactly the pace he craves, the pace he needs. Something hard that will make him remember, when he walks, when he moves. When he dances tomorrow night, even though it will be difficult to do the fluid choreography, he  _ needs  _ the reminder of having Minseok with him, like this. Being filled and fucked so well.

He moans, reaching back and holding his ass, spreading his cheeks and making himself wider for Minseok to sink into him, and Minseok goes for it, drilling into him harder, his cock pounding so deeply and so fiercely that Jongin feels as if his body is splitting at the point where he’s entering him, again and again.

“Oh,  _ oh fuck,”  _ he moans, and Minseok moans with him, and Jongin hears nothing but his voice, and the loud smack of their bodies meeting as Minseok bears down on him, the slick sound of Minseok’s thick cock fucking into him making his own length harder, spurting at the tip with the need to release. 

“Let me hear you, baby boy,” Minseok tells him gently, voice too soft for the way he was pushing himself into Jongin’s ass, and Jongin does as he’s told. He moans, sobs and whimpers with the way he was being stretched open by Minseok’s thick length, makes it loud to make up for not being able to raise up his face from where it was smashed on the couch cushion, voice muffled and strained. 

He listens to the sound Minseok makes, the groans as he pounds into Jongin’s ass, and Jongin can’t help it, can’t think of anything else but the look he knows is on Minseok’s face. Furrowed eyebrows, eyes almost shut close. His normally quite pale complexion red with exertion and heat, the muscles of his shoulders, arms pronounced as he fucks him. His mouth. Lips puffy from the biting and red and licked over, again and again, beautiful.

Jongin has seen the look on Minseok’s face countless times, knows it intimately, knows it like the back of his hand.

The familiarity doesn’t stop him from wanting to see, still. It always feels like the first time. 

“I,  _ fuck,  _ M-Minseok,  _ daddy,  _ please,” he whimpers, and Minseok pauses instantly, hand gentle on his waist. Jongin can almost feel him pulsing inside. 

“What is it, Nini?” he asks tenderly, so tenderly, bringing his head down and kissing his cheek comfortingly. Jongin can’t help but lean into it, humming as he seeks more warmth and maybe. A little love.

“I want to see you. Please,” he asks, maybe too shyly for their position, but Minseok is understanding, immediately indulging him. Pulls out as gently as he can, kissing Jongin’s brow when he winces at the emptiness, and turns him over to lie on his back, arranging him with careful hands, touching him always, keeping him tethered when Jongin feels like he’s floating away.

“You alright there, baby boy?” he asks quietly, leaning down, covering Jongin’s body with his. He’s so warm.

“Yes. I’m very alright,” he answers. Minseok smiles at him, bright eyed and smile soft, and Jongin is so helplessly in love with him.

He’s leaning back up then, and his body is more compact than Jongin’s. Defined, the muscles of his arms hard under Jongin’s fingertips, his chest and stomach shining from the sweat of exertion. He’s gorgeous, and Jongin spreads his legs for him easily, willingly, and he yelps a little when Minseok lifts his hips up, his ass, strong grip around his waist as his cock plunges back into his hole, filling him up again.

Jongin moans, moans for a long while as his emptiness is satiated, Minseok filling him to the brim and leaving no space for anything else but his length, hard and thick inside him.

“Good, baby?” he asks, his one hand moving down Jongin’s torso, over the sweater, over his stomach, down to his crotch, and feather-like over his cock, leaking and hard. His touch is like fire.

“Yes, Minnie,” he answers easily, reaching up when Minseok offers his hands. They link their fingers together, and Minseok is too good to him, fucks him slow and hard, pace increasing with every other thrust. 

Jongin throws his head back, craning his neck and shutting his eyes when his prostate is grinded into, and he moans, whines, overwhelmed, and it won’t take long at all.

Minseok reads him well, bringing his own body down to cover Jongin until they’re flush together, guiding Jongin’s legs to wrap around his waist, and he  _ grinds in  _ deliciously, dragging his cock along his walls.

“A little more, Nini. You’re almost there, baby boy,” Minseok says, fucking into him, and Jongin brings his arms to coil around Minseok’s shoulders, keeping him close. There are soft, warm lips on his, and he deepens their kiss immediately, wanting to taste as much of Minseok as he can, and Minseok obliges just as easily, opening his mouth and letting him lick in.

Minseok rolls his hips so well, grinding into him, keeping him full, and Jongin takes everything’s he’s given, trying to give in turn, but Minseok fucks him thoroughly and close, taking care of him too well, and it’s like he wants him still. Wants to be the one to get him there, and Jongin lets him, wants it to be him, too.

“Want, oh,  _ oh,”  _ he tries, but Minseok grinds in particularly deep, angle particularly  _ good,  _ and he moans softly, long and deeply affected as his ass clenches around Minseok’s cock. 

“What is it, Nini?” Minseok murmurs, hands squeezing his waist, just beneath the sweater. “Want to come? Come on my cock?”

He whines. Minseok pauses, and he knows he should use his words, so he tries again, words stilted from his body’s sensitivity, “N-need to come. Want to come, on your c-cock.”

“Okay, beautiful boy,” Minseok says, kissing him again, and he fucks him hard, right into the couch, but the moment still feels soft, gently intimate, air warm between them and Jongin clings to him for dear life, needing it all. 

It doesn’t take much, having been so close to the edge. Minseok  _ drives  _ into him, fucking him, and Jongin can’t think of anything else, registers nothing but Minseok’s thick length spearing him open. He comes when Minseok thrusts into him especially hard, going especially deep, a high moan escaping from his lips, and he’s spilling all over his stomach and dirtying the frayed edges of the sweater.

Minseok fucks him harder, harder still for a few moments, and he groans, grinding into Jongin with small, irregular thrusts, wringing out his climax inside him, coming into the condom, swearing quietly.

“Minnie,” Jongin says affectionately, bringing his hands up and brushing Minseok’s hair back from his face. Minseok hums, leaning into his touch, closing his eyes, looking so soft and tender and Jongin is so in love, it’s frightening. 

“Crafty boy,” he says, amused and shaking his head gently at him. “You were supposed to be resting and not doing anything strenuous for tomorrow.”

“I know my body. I’ll be okay,” he says, and Minseok kisses him. He melts almost instantly, chest warm and full.

“Hmm,” he says, and his blinks are heavy, slow. Jongin touches his face gently. “I’m afraid I’m quite tuckered out.”

“‘Tuckered out,’ what an oldie,” Jongin teases, and Minseok pinches his side lightly. The night’s coming to an end, and it feels a little heavier than he’d like. Jongin knows it’s mostly just on him. “You have work tomorrow, right?”

“Important meetings for the gallery and new acquisitions,” Minseok confirms, if a little tiredly. “One after the other, from the morning into the night.”

So, like Jongin had thought. He  _ won’t  _ be able to go watch him. And he’d been prepared, he’d thought that this might happen, but it doesn’t make it sting any less, to know he won’t be there. 

“Well, you should get some rest, then,” Jongin says, trying to sound a little brighter than he feels.

Minseok looks at him curiously. “It should be  _ you  _ resting, Nini. Your performance, it’s important.”

“I’ll be okay,” he just repeats, and Minseok frowns slightly. “I’ll let you get your sleep-”

“Jongin,” Minseok starts gently. Jongin stops talking, almost instantly, to listen, even if he knows it will make his aching chest ache a little bit more, with how much he wants him. “It’s late. And you’re tired. Sleep here.”

“I. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he hesitates to say. 

“Why, baby?” he asks. “You never sleep over anymore. What’s wrong?”

Jongin doesn’t know how to explain, can’t exactly say that if he stays, sleeps here, embraced and held in Minseok’s arms, he’ll never want to leave. Will say all these things he’d been keeping quiet for so long, tell him everything he feels only to be rejected. 

He doesn’t want to burden Minseok like that. And he doesn’t want to break his own heart this way, either. 

“Nothing,” he says, smiling. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then sleep here,” Minseok says, a soft request. Jongin closes his eyes at the tone. “I want to wake up next to you. Please, baby.”

Minseok’s never used those words this way. Like a gentle plead, and Jongin is too weak for him. Lets the words sink in, and he can’t say no to Minseok as it is on a normal basis. When he uses this tender tone, beautiful and affectionate and it seems too genuine, he lets his heart rule over his head.

“Okay,” he murmurs, feeling unreasonably shy after being fucked so hard and begging for it.

Minseok smiles, so so soft, and Jongin is so weak for him.

He lets Minseok clean him up, bring him over to his just-as-rich-looking bedroom in the loft, the ceilings there still high and Minseok strips the sweater off him finally, and Jongin feels especially vulnerable now that he’s fully bare, naked and it’s like his heart is on display when he doesn’t want it to be.

Minseok kisses him as soon as he’s laid out on the mattress, hovering over him and kissing him, over and over.

“I thought, you need to sleep,” Jongin says, words between every press of their mouths together, but his eyes are closed, feeling himself sink into a little bliss just for the two of them.

“I want to fall asleep kissing you, baby boy,” he says, the words rolling from his tongue easily, and Jongin blushes, feels his heart warm  _ too much,  _ feels so spoiled with it all, more so than anytime Minseok had spent thousands on him, just with these kisses on his lips, all over his face, his throat. Right over his heart.

Minseok does as he said he’d do, sleepily kissing him until he’s out like a light a mere few minutes later, lips still pressed against Jongin’s, laying next to him and keeping him close. Jongin stares, and Minseok looks so young for his age, almost innocent, a purity that deceives his quiet, assertive nature and bright smile, and he’s so, so beautiful. 

Jongin is helplessly in love, so sad and his chest aching with the want to be near him, all the time. 

He can’t take it.

He eases himself out of Minseok’s embrace, tried and unable to sleep, feeling his heart pound too heavily and loudly with the pain of wanting but not being able to have, and he pads quietly back down to the first level, taking a duvet along with him, and settling back into the couch. 

He lays there in silence for a long time, curling up into himself, heart heavy, wishing he didn’t feel this way, but there’s not much for it. The proximity would have been too much for his already tired heart to handle, and he’s barely holding himself together, willing himself to not cry. He wants to say it’s because he’s been stressed with practice and graduating and working hard, but he knows that it can’t just be that.

Minseok makes him so, so happy. The kind he can’t contain but still soft, just like a warmth instead of a spark, but nonetheless bright, maybe the most beautiful thing in his life. It pains him, that it will be nothing more than something casual, something on the side wherein Minseok pays him to be his baby, spoils him with expensive things and everything Jongin wants except for the one thing he wants most but can’t ask for. 

He doesn’t really remember when it had become  _ more  _ to him. But all he knows now is that when Minseok does so much as smile, it makes his heart skip, every bit of a cliche, but it feels wonderful and painful altogether. Jongin knows it’s his own fault for feeling this way in the first place.

So. He tries to sleep, Minseok’s couch more comfortable than his own bed back in his and Sehun’s shared place, the smell of  _ them  _ from earlier still clinging to the soft texture of surface of the cushions. It makes him blush, slightly, but more than that, it makes him ache, yearn for someone who seems unreachable. 

He can’t sleep, still. So he hears it when there are footsteps going down the stairs, light as they are, and he feels it when there’s someone standing over him, quiet, a gentle presence. 

“Nini, baby,” Minseok sounds a little sad. Jongin feels his chest tighten sadly. “I know you’re awake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but doesn’t look up. “I couldn’t sleep. I, I didn’t want to disturb, I tend to get restless when I can’t sleep.”

“I know this already,” Minseok says patiently. “It’s alright with me. I meant it when I said I wanted to wake up next to you.”

Oh, with words like those. Jongin had no chance but to fall. “I need to leave early, too,” he says, “earlier than you. I, I didn’t want to wake you up, I know you have a hard time sleeping.”

“It’s easier with you there,” Minseok says quietly, and Jongin wills himself to not look. Can’t do this to himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ll just sleep here. I need to wake up earlier and it will be easier this way.” It’s not quite convincing, but it’s enough to make the silence go on. 

“Alright,” Minseok says eventually after several moments.

Jongin holds in his sigh, turning over more to his side so he’s facing the backrest of the couch, knowing he won’t get much sleep, but still preparing himself all the same for a lonely night.

So, it fully surprises him when the duvet is lifted, and he jumps slightly when Minseok climbs in to lay next to him, covering his back with his chest, arms coming round to curl around him and pull him in close. 

“M-Minseok?” he says, “W-What are you-”

“It’s apparent you don’t like my bed,” he says calmly, moving so they’re flush, the couch barely wide enough for both of them, but. Jongin’s heart aches and warms, so tired but full. “So I’ll sleep here, with you.”

“But. It’s not as comfortable-”

“It doesn’t matter. This is where you want to be, then I’ll be here,” he answers simply, lips on his shoulder.

Jongin wants to cry at his tenderness. “I’ll wake you, though, when I get up. You won’t get enough sleep.”

“I’ll wake up next to you, though,” he says, as if it were obvious. “The little sleep will be worth it, just for that.”

_ Why are you like this, with me?  _ he wants to ask, wants to know the answer to. Doesn’t know if he’s being lead on or if this is genuine or. 

He doesn’t know. But Minseok doesn’t lie to him. Never has, and he treats Jongin with so much respect, doesn’t treat him like a child despite what Jongin calls him sometimes, despite their age difference. Just takes care of him, so well.

_ Do you love me? Can you love me? In the way I love you?  _ he wants to ask.

“Okay,” he says instead, eventually, giving in this once. Allowing himself this much. “Okay.”

“Sleep well, Jongin,” Minseok presses his lips to the back of his neck once, touch feather-light, and Jongin actually can’t keep the tears in, the wetness leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he stays silent. 

He sleeps too well. It makes his heart ache.

.

When he wakes the next morning, Minseok wakes with him. Makes him a simple breakfast of eggs and toasted bread, and even drives him back personally to his place. 

Jongin tries not to dwell on it too much, the overwhelming sense of domesticity and  _ home, comfort  _ he feels, but when Minseok bids him goodbye right before he gets out the car with the hand on his thigh squeezing slightly, and a soft kiss pressed to his mouth, Jongin really, truly cannot help it. Can’t help but think of a future like this, going to work together, dropping each other off with kisses and quiet mornings. 

It’s like torture to his already tired heart.

He goes through the motions of the day, going to school, practicing, doing final rehearsals and staging, and getting ready.

He’d been right, about the slight twinge of pain still being there from the night before. It’s not unbearable, but rather. It feels good, moving and still feeling Minseok there. It’s a little more difficult to do the harder parts of the choreography, but he works hard, and it doesn’t seem to hinder him any less, still receiving good remarks from the directors and instructors, praise for his dedication and expressions.

He sighs as he completes his makeup, glitter on his eyes and on his lips, shimmer across the highest parts of his cheeks. He knows Sehun will be there, and where Sehun is, Junmyeon will probably follow. Kyungsoo will be there to watch Chanyeol for his guitar performance, and Yixing will be there for Baekhyun. His mom and sisters will be there too, for sure. 

He’s loved, by enough people, and they are more than enough. Makes him feel very blessed to be so supported. 

But still.

“Ready, Jongin?” Jongdae asks him between vocalization runs, and they’ve been sharing rooms backstage for most of their university life. Jongin finds his singing comforting, but now, he can barely hear anything from his blankness. 

“I think so,” he answers, tousling his hair up a little more. Looks at where his performance outfit is hanging on the rack, tight black pants with twin white stripes running along the side, thin white suspenders Baekhyun had convinced him to wear, and a gorgeous,  _ expensive  _ deep v-neck sweater in bright red, something Minseok had bought for him while on a business trip in Paris.

He thinks. Pauses, and he swallows.

“Hyung, do you have, maybe, a pair of scissors?” he asks Jongdae, still staring at the sweater. 

“Scissors? Hmm, oh, I do happen to have them now,” he says, rummaging through his bag. “To remove the tags from my clothes. Still have tags on yours?”

“No, it’s not for that,” Jongin says, accepting the offered pair, and calming his beating heart. 

.

He dances well. Really well, harder than he’s ever danced before, giving everything he has. It goes very, very well, and the applause and ovation he receives stays with him after he bows and leaves the stage. 

He feels fulfilled, happy. Could be happier, if. 

Well. It’s not like he can do much for that, so he takes this success, breathes it in, lets it settle into his bones and he celebrates on his own, quietly.

But not for long, because Baekhyun is barging into his room backstage, grin wide and hugs tight, saying,  _ yelling,  _ really, “Nini!  _ Nini!  _ Holy shit! You dance beast! You were  _ so fucking good!” _

“Let him breathe, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol is saying, while simultaneously joining the group hug and squeezing the life out of them both. “Ah, Jongin! Such a perfect performance.”

“Thank you,” he says, voice muffled, trying to separate, but they seem to hug even harder. “I can’t breathe.”

“You’re fine,” Baekhyun says, hugging him even tighter. “And your outfit! Did I inspire you?”

“You got lucky,” he says, maybe a little darkly, but really. Considering where ruining his sweater lead to, Baekhyun had done him a favor. “Never wear my clothes without my supervision again.”

“Noted,” he says readily, letting go just as Jongdae comes back to the room.

“Ah, Nini, gorgeous dance,” he says, and Jongin smiles, hugging him. 

“Thank you, hyung,” he says, “You were great. I bet my mom cried.”

“Ah, maybe not to that extent,” Jongdae says, laughing. “Ah, I saw your mom, out in the corridor. She was talking to someone though. Looked like a cat, to be honest. Handsome. Is she dating someone? He looks a little young for her.”

Jongin pauses. His heart pounds in his chest, things too good to be true, because the likelihood of  _ him  _ actually coming to watch him. It wasn’t plausible at all.

He walks out of the room regardless, trying not to hope too much.

It’s him. Minseok, looking beautiful and handsome in a turtleneck and casual denim jacket, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and smiling so kindly at Jongin’s mother, who is smiling in turn as they converse, and Jongin can’t quite believe it. Can’t believe he’s here. 

“Oh, Jongin! My wonderful boy,” she says, seeing him. Minseok turns to look at him as well, and the look on his voice. So soft, tender, and Jongin is so in love with him. She come sup to him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “You were incredible.”

“Thank you, mom,” he says quietly, hugging her, appreciating her every word deeply, but he can’t shake off the fact that Minseok is right there, watching their interaction quietly, with the fondest look on his face.

“Was he not wonderful?” she asks Minseok then when they separate, and Minseok’s smile is wide, sincere, warm.

“Exceptional,” he answers, looking at him, and Jongin feels like he’s melting into him, all over again. Falling, too easily, too willingly.

“Is he your boyfriend, Jongin?” she asks him, and he chokes on his tongue at the question. “He was looking for you, and the flowers, I assumed-”

“No, mom,” he says, the words bitter on his tongue, but he keeps his tone light. Minseok looks at him, and he tries not to meet his eyes.

“Oh, but he’s very handsome,” she says, and Minseok laughs, blushing at her praise, and Jongin is overwhelmed. “Very polite, too.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kim,” Minseok says, bowing respectfully. “Jongin is a friend I admire very much. I saw him performing several months ago at a friend’s concert, and we’ve kept in touch since then.”

It’s very close to the truth. Jongin had been featured in Changmin’s concert as a dancer in a few numbers, and Minseok had sought him out there, and that’s how they had met. Their arrangement had been borne out of Jongin’s classmate, Taemin’s recommendation when Jongin had been several thousands short for tuition and didn’t want to worry his family, and Minseok hadn’t been looking for someone to spoil, but Jinkee had arranged everything, and.

It had been almost a year since then. It’s been very good, but also quite painful.

“Oh, wonderful,” she remarks. Jongin hasn’t stopped looking at Minseok, who looks back, calm.

“If I may have a word with your son? It won’t take long,” Minseok asks, and she nods instantly with a wide beam, almost pushing Jongin away towards him.

Minseok has his free hand on the small of his back, guiding him along, and Jongin can barely register anything, just going along with him. Can barely hear the congratulatory messages being directed at him, bowing almost constantly so he doesn’t seem rude, but he catches Minseok’s soft words to them,  _ “Thank you, oh, he’s just tired. He’s very thankful for your support.” _

Minseok. What is he even doing here, why did he come? It fills him up, making his chest tight, brightly happy, but. 

“Hmm. Your mom likes me,” Minseok says quietly, happily, when they finally stop, near the lobby, pulling them in and stopping next to the empty staircase. It’s just them, and Jongin feels especially small. 

“Yes, she does,” Jongin says, realizing. It’s not much of a hardship to like Minseok, though. He blinks, steels himself, trying to be brave, “Minnie, I. I thought you were supposed to have a meeting now?”

“Hmm. It’s, how do I say. Postponed,” he answers, and Jongin frowns, knowing he’s not being honest. Minseok has never lied to him, and he’s discovering now that Minseok is a bad liar.

“You cancelled a meeting to watch me?” he asks, and Minseok looks at him. That softness is in his eyes again, and his smile the one Jongin loves so much. 

“It was very much worth it. You were beautiful,” he says easily, like it were the most obvious thing in the world. Jongin feels himself melt all the more, a sting in his eyes that he tries to hold back. 

“But. You said they were important meetings,” he tries, and Minseok steps forward, brushing his hair away from his face. He craves his closeness, can’t help but lean in a little.

“This was important to you,” he says gently, keeping his voice soft despite no one else being there. “And you’re important to me. I wanted to be here. I’m very happy I came, you’re beautiful.”

Jongin can’t keep himself in check for much longer. Wants to cry, so emotional, so touched and overwhelmed. Truly so taken care of, and he breathes in when Minseok comes forward a little more, lowering his hand to touch his exposed waist, fingers flittering over his belly where the shorn sweater doesn’t cover.

“I recognize this one,” he murmurs, touching the cut hem of the top, pulling between fingers. Jongin tries not to shiver. “I remember it being longer.”

“I. I cut it,” he answers. Minseok’s eyes are so bright tonight.

“Hmm. Was this for me?” he asks. Jongin swallows, thinking through the words he wants to say carefully.

There are many things he can say to excuse it, but. He decides to be honest, replies, “Yes. But, it was mostly for me. I liked the way you looked at me in the other one. I wanted to remember the feeling for myself, for tonight. To remind myself you were with me.”

Minseok goes a little quiet, looking at him. Taking in the words he’d said. 

“You’re beautiful,” he just says again, but Jongin takes it in. Wants him to say it again, and again. Just from him, only him.

It’s quiet for a while, and it’s not uncomfortable. Just is. Minseok raises his other hand, and in it, the bouquet his mother had mentioned, a large one of white and pale green roses, beautiful and simple, making Jongin’s heart soar a little. It’s big, but not big enough to cover the paper bag Jongin hadn’t even noticed, Gucci. 

“For you,” Minseok offers everything to him. Jongin pauses, and takes them, one by one. Breathes in the flowers, but before he can thank him, however, they’re no longer alone, the doors to the performance hall opening, and out comes, “Oh, Nini! I was looking for you!”

Sehun pulls him into a hug, kissing the side of his head. Junmyeon stands off a little to the side, smiling serenely.

“You did so well, I’m so proud, and. Oh,” he finally looks at Minseok, who smiles at him politely. “Hi?”

“Hello. I’m Minseok,” he bows, and Sehun doesn’t deserve a bow, he’s a brat, but he grins at Minseok’s manners, bowing back. “You must be Sehun?”

“Oh, Jongin’s told you about me?” he says, and Minseok smiles again in confirmation. Jongin stares only at him. 

“Yes, he has,” he answers, but looks back at Jongin. “Well. I’ll leave you to spend the night with your friends and family. Congratulations.”

He takes Jongin’s hand in his discreetly, squeezing, and gives him a small smile, just for him, and Jongin doesn’t want him to leave. He squeezes back, but Minseok turns to leave, walking out the door with a bow to everyone else, and Jongin’s heart gets stuck in his throat, longing for what he can’t have. 

The flowers are beautiful. He opens the bag, and inside are folded up sweaters and tops, a great big mound of them, and set on top, with a bow wrapped around it-

“Are those. Scissors?” Sehun looks inside as well. Jongin doesn’t speak, picking it up, and reading the small note attached.

_ ‘For a beautiful boy. My beautiful boy.’ _

He breathes, blinking rapidly, and it’s a simple note. But, one he thinks could hold so much meaning.

He’s done not asking, not saying what he wants.

“Hold these,” he says, handing the flowers and bag to Sehun, and he runs out of the lobby, out of the building and into the cold, but he doesn’t feel it, only looking for Minseok, wanting him too much.

He hadn’t gone very far, just a ways off from the main entrance, and he’s beautiful, too. “Minseok, wait.”

He stops, looks back when Jongin calls him. He’s glowing a bit, Jongin thinks, or that could just be the way he sees Minseok. Either way, still beautiful.

“Did I forget something, Nini?” he asks, and Jongin slows his breathing as he catches up to him, trying to calm himself enough to say what he wants to say. It doesn’t work much, his heart hammering in his chest, his hands shaking a little.

“I. I just need to say something,” he says, and Minseok nods, turning around to face him properly, waiting. 

He swallows, clenches his hands to try to calm himself a little more, and thinks of the words, tries to come up with the sentences he wants to say. His chest goes tight, so tight, knowing it needs to express what he feels because it seems like it’s truly now or never, but now that the moment is here, he feels a little paralyzed. He knows Minseok would wait, is so patient and wouldn’t rush him, but he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know if he’s brave enough to say it, let the words come out and speak his truth.

“Jongin,” Minseok says, softly alarmed, coming forward, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Oh, he hadn’t even realized. But there are tears coming down his cheeks, and his chest is painful with hurt and apprehension, and he’s making soft, pained noises, more when Minseok comes closer, trying to wipe his tears as they come down. 

He’s scared. Scared of being rejected, scared that this will change everything and not for the better. But he wants to be brave.

“Baby, what is it?” Minseok asks gently, trying to comfort him. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want.”

He sobs. “You.”

“You have me,” Minseok tells him, assures him, but Jongin shakes his head, because he doesn’t understand.

“No, I mean,” he says between deep breaths, between the beats of his heart, and he lets it all out. “I mean, kisses in the morning when we wake up, and breakfast together, and car rides together. Being together, going on, on dates, being happy and open and. And letting me love you, and you loving me, and. And,” he tries to say more, but can’t, because the words stop coming, the tears taking their place.

But he doesn’t need to.

Minseok takes his hand carefully in his, holding it to chest, the other still on his face, his thumb wiping at the tears. “Nini, I know what you meant,” he says gently, calmly. His eyes are shining. 

Jongin doesn’t want to hope, but Minseok looks at him, holds him, and he finally understands, that he should do more than just hope.

“You  _ have me,”  _ he repeats just as softly, but the words finally sinking in, and he feels a little more complete.

He cries even more, and Minseok leans up, his lips grazing his ear, and the words he says, Jongin wants to keep forever, finally believing. 

“Beautiful boy, I love you,” Minseok says, words soft and Jongin feels it in his soul, quelling the tightness and making him so, so,  _ so  _ happy, finally feeling a little more light, and he cries, cries more.

He moves his face, kisses Minseok, and it doesn’t feel different from before. But the words complete it, makes it  _ more,  _ and he doesn’t stop crying, the tears making the kiss salty and wet, and Minseok holds him close, kisses back deeply, licking into his mouth, letting him love him. Finally, freely. 

He wraps his arms around Minseok’s strong shoulders, keeping close, and Minseok brings his hands up, touching his waist, fingers cold on Jongin’s skin, and he shivers, not just from the touch, but from the reminder. Of the night before, of things changing slowly, but him not realizing it.

But it doesn’t matter. He was brave, and Minseok loves him. 

“You’re cold,” Minseok then says softly against his mouth, his hands rubbing his skin, trying to cover him and shield him from the cold. “Are you okay?”

Jongin nods his head, smiling against his lips. He really is. In every way possible.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/markxiuyeols)
> 
> [tumblr](http://castlenarry.tumblr.com/)


End file.
